Sheesh

come·up·pance (kmpns)
n.
A punishment or retribution that one deserves

So I'm in Blind Bay for the weekend, visiting Barb.  We have a weekend of relaxation, movies, popcorn and general sloth-ish-ness planned.  We watch 'PS, I love you'.  Everyone I know who has seen this movie assured me that I would sob like a baby when I watched it.  I didn't.  Didn't even shed ONE tear.  Further evidence that I possess a cold little black heart. 

After the movie we decide to have a dip in Barb's new hot tub... the hot tub where I was entertained by Barb and her raccoons.  Lucky for me, there were no raccoons tonight.... there was, however... a noise.  A big noise.  Crashing in the forest.  The sound of something perhaps climbing a tree and breaking huge branches on it's way up.  Something that sounded easily as big as a bear. 

I screamed.  Barb laughed.  More crashing.  More screaming... more of Barb laughing.  I did what any sane person would do.  I stood up in the hot tub, shook my fist in the general direction of the forest-crashing and yelled "The power of Christ compels you!!!!"  At this point, Barb is howling... she can barely breathe, she is laughing so hard.  Ugly-face laughing.

Yeah.... I totally deserved that, didn't I?
Sheesh.

Hot Tub Trauma

I simply have to share this with y'all.

Last night I was on the phone with myBarb.  She was in her hot tub and was taking great pleasure in pointing out the fact that SHE was in a hot tub and I was decidedly NOT in a hot tub.  Lucky for me, karma is alive and well and nailed her right between the eyes.

We were chatting away happily when suddenly she starts completely freaking out.  Screaming and going bananas.  B-A-N-A-N-A-S.  There are two raccoons in a tree about 20 feet away from her and they are staring at her.  "What should I do?  WHAT SHOULD I DO???" she screams in my ear.  I, of course, am laughing so hard that I literally can't respond.  "Stop laughing at me!!!  What should I do?!!!" she howls.  Now, you need to understand.  The racoons are 20 feet from her.  The sliding glass doors to her house are about 5 feet from the hot tub.  I can't stop laughing.  She's making them out to be blood thirsty demons with fangs when they are, in reality, 2 very cute racoons who are very likely rendered immobile out of fear from her screams.

Once the ruckus died down and she was safely ensconced in her home, she asked me where I thought they would go.  I told her that they likely had a lovely nest built somewhere very nearby to which she replied 'Fuck off!'.  Being the good friend that I am, I thought I should research this a bit for her.  Her's what I came up with;

"Raccoons tend to be solitary. In populated areas, raccoons often choose to make homes in chimney flues and attics. They seem to be the perennial, nightly raider of the suburban garbage can. Mating season for the raccoon is at its peak in February and March."

From this information I can assume the following.

• The nest they are building is likely in her attic
• It's March, so these creatures that are usually solitary must be mating since there was a pair of them
• Soon Barb will have a wee family of them living in her attic

Now, to her credit, Barb has come a long way.  When she first moved from Calgary to Blind Bay, simply seeing a moth in the house evoked this exact reaction in her.  No I'm not kidding.  Not exaggerating even slightly.  Give her another 5 or 6 years and I have no doubt she'll be an intrepid mountain woman, killing cougars with her bare hands. 

Barb, you are a never-ending source of entertainment for me.  Love you!!!
(In the midst of her screams last night, the one sentence that I did manage to get out while laughing was "I am SO gonna blog this!!!)

Re-set

So.
The past 2 weeks have been pretty rough.  I was already feeling burned out in general... then was hit with a bit of a doozy.  I was kind of hanging by a thread and was really, really, really looking forward to a conference in Vancouver paired with a bit of vacation.  Originally I planned to go solo, but at the last minute it worked out that my Brats came with me.  Here are some of the highlights thus far:

• Jack and Gigi on their first flight; so cute.
• A visit with my friend Randy in Kelowna
• Time with my Beloved Aunt and Uncle, Emil and Sheila
• West Vancouver; 'nuff said
• A walk on the beach with my Brats
• A Conference that is turning out to be excellent

Now, I know that money can't buy happiness, it really can't and I KNOW that, but.  Yeah, but.  When I arrived to check in at the hotel where my conference is being held, I was asked if I wanted to upgrade my room.  An extra $30/night that includes internet (a $15 cost/day regardless), breakfast, evening appetizers in the Concierge Lounge and a view of the harbour.  Did I hesitate?  Even for a moment?  No way in hell.  "Yes, please" is what I said, as fast as I could. 

I went up to my room and almost started to cry.  A King-sized bed, and a curved wall of windows overlooking the harbour, the entire length of the room. (See photo above!)  I quickly changed into walking clothes and found out where the nearest liquor store was in order to secure a bottle of port.  Last night I sat cross-legged on my king-sized bed with a glass of port in my hand, watching the lights of the ships in the harbour.  I was grateful; I did not take this moment for granted for even a second.

Special room: $90 extra for 3 nights
Lovely port: $29.00
Feeling like my 're-set' button has been pressed?  Priceless

When they learned that I wouldn't be coming to Vancouver alone, Emil and Sheila agreed without hesitation to take the Darling Brats for me while at the conference.  Emil and Sheila have plenty of their own shit to deal with right now, but in spite of that (and SUPER-in-spite-of-that, Sheila is a grade 4 teacher and was no doubt looking forward to a peaceful Spring Break...) they graciously welcomed us into their home and even appeared genuinely excited to have my children full-on for 3 nights while I basked in Marriott-like bliss.  This is family. This is love.

I write this as I sip a glass of Merlot in the Concierge Lounge; the sun is setting and the lights of West Vancouver are beautiful just across the harbour.  (I can hear Emil at this point saying "Ok, ok.... now you're just rubbing it in!") I went for a long walk along the seawall on my lunch hour and did the same this evening after my last session.  I can't help but wonder if it's the "re-set button" effect that has me taking care of myself or the fact that I've pampered myself a bit and feel worthy of it.  I pondered this for quite some time during my walks today.

I feel ready to take on the world again.  Before I left for Vancouver when I was at an especially low and fragile (and quasi chin-quivering) point, my friend whose name rhymes with 'Barb Vincent' gave me a virtual smack upside the head and said to me "Smarten up!!!  You're stronger than this!"

Turns out she was right.

Yay Vino!!!

I love wine.  Lerve it.  Luff it.  M-m-m-m-m-m......

It may have something to do with the French blood that flows in me, thanks to my Mom.  For me, drinking wine has always been synonymous with laughter and female bonding. When I was young, I remember watching my Mom and her sisters visit in our livingroom while drinking wine.  There were six of them and they were a vivacious group free spirited French gals.  My grandmother (their Mom) definitely laid the groundwork for that dynamic.

I'm currently working with some folks on a project where I live to establish whether or not this region is conducive to growing grapes for winemaking.  I'm really excited about the project and the potential for it happening where I live.  I've met some great people and through those connections was invited to be a judge in a wine competition in a community close to where I live this weekend.  Free wine drinking, you say?  Count me in!  It's the first time I was able to drink wine before noon and not feel guilty about it although having to only taste and spit out the wine felt a bit like a crime against the universe.

Being a wine tasting judge was a riot.  Seriously!  I may have actually coined a few new wine-tasting terms such as 'floaty bits' and 'yummy'.  The wine was all home made and some of it was very good.  Afterwards there was a potluck dinner and about 60 people from the village came out for it.  There was something really magical about it.... the palpable sense of community in the room was incredible and I felt truly honoured to be there. 

There was a band playing made up of local people and it really added to the sense of community spirit.  My girlfriend Cindy told me earlier in the week that her husband was going to part of the entertainment that evening.  I told her that when she used the term 'entertainment' I was picturing Murray in assless chaps, however he actually wore jeans and was the drummer in the band. 

I've been a bit of a hermit lately; cocooning in my home and loving it.... but last night reminded me how important it is to connect with people and the value of living in a small community.  Tonight I look forward to sipping a glass of red that I'm actually allowed to swallow!

Fridge Magnets

Ok y'all.
I just have to share something funny with you.

I briefly mentioned in an earlier post that I had a suitor who didn't like my fridge magnets so I politely sent him packing.  Seriously.  It sounds like a small thing but my fridge magnets really represent a big part of my sense of humour.  Appropriate?  Not so much but neither am I.

Mybarb and I were yapping on the phone the other night and she was updating my pathetic "don't-have-television" ass on what was happening on The Bachelor.  Apparently it's down to 4 women and one of them withdrew from the show because she didn't want to give up her job for this man.  I expressed indignation that she wouldn't quit her job for a man who showed such potential to which Barb replied "This from the woman who won't even take her fucking fridge magnets down!"

Touche, my good friend.

Now while I understand what she's getting at with this cheeky comment, I just have to say that humour is so very important to me and I'll defend that position with my last breath!  (Ok, somewhat dramatic but you get what I'm saying....).  I think you need to see my fridge magnets, dear internet, in order to fully understand what I'm trying to explain here.  People either clearly think they're funny.... or really, really don't.  So, for your entertainment and viewing pleasure, I present 'Susan's quasi-obscene fridge magnets'. 

I'm guessing that you've figured out by now that I love all things 'retro'.  If I won the lottery I think I'd buy the Brady Bunch house.  I'm not kidding.  I have a couple of other gems (non-magnet variety) that are absolutely hilarious and have a total retro, kitschy feel to them.  I'll do another post soon telling you all about that. 

 Please; if you happen to see a fridge magnet with the same theme as those shown above, send it to me!!!  There just might be a jar of homemade antipasto in it for you.....

See, Dear Readers?

Well?  Did y'all notice? (My American friend is no doubt laughing at the increase in my "y'all" usuage).  Check out the new math....

Increased Comments + No Spam = Tons O' Bloggin'

I may even break a record in February for the most blogs/month on Suzeville.  And February is a really short month!!!  Can you tell I'm a little bit bored?  I have ramble-itis.  If I do say so myself, it's kinda cute when I do it.  All the girls from work are collectively rolling their eyes in this moment because they are SICK TO DEATH of me saying that phrase.

Sample:

Shori/Margaret/Tana/Darcy:  "Susan, did you forget to submit your stats this month?"
Susan:  "Why yes.  Yes, I did.  But it's cute when I do it."

You get the gist. :)  Cute, no?

.... and another thing....

Let me make myself perfectly clear, people.  I do not have another packrat.  Ted and I did not catch a whiff o' packrat smell when we came in the house yesterday and I certainly did not just hear packratty noises in the ceiling a moment ago.  Just wanted to share that with y'all.

Ok?  Are we clear on that?  Just checking.
*sigh*

Sauce du la Sauce a la Bang Bang

So my Beloved Seeso and her hubby just moved into a new house and needed the couch back that I was borrowing from them.  The nerve.

I put out a plea on Facebook:
"Does anyone have a sofa they want to sell? My sister has the nerve to want hers back. Sheesh. :)"

Here were the responses:
Kevin Dereniwsky: What happened to the nice one I gave you?
(Yeah.... 7 years ago!!)

Claudette Tower Dowler: You better find something soon, or I'll be sleeping with you and Barb at our weekend to the Sharngri-la... and I like to sleep in the nude :)
(The Blind Bay Bitches are coming for a weekend here at Shangri-la in March.  Batten down the hatches.)

And then?  I heard angels singing.....

Ron Scott: We are selling our couch and love seat that you love so much. If you're still interested 250.00 for the pair.
(Ron and I worked as paramedics together.  Yay Ron!!)

So, all I had to do was pick them up at Ron's place.  Easy, right?  Yeah.... right.  I asked my friend Ted to help me.  He has a truck and just LOVES it when I ask him to take care of the 'blue jobs' at my house.  Ted is also known as: Saucy-sauce, Saucey Bang-Bang, Ticka-ticka or Teddy.  You know that person who you can call on pretty much anytime you need something, no matter what?  Help moving, leaky faucet, $50 bucks, bail money at 2:00am (haven't needed that yet....), Ted is one of those guys who is always there.

Teddy is pretty much the male version of me and is like a brother.  We laugh our heads off.  We can talk about almost anything and usually do on a fairly regular basis over a bottle of wine.  He's been such a good friend to me and I feel pretty lucky to know him.  He's a free spirit and insists on living life on his own terms no matter what anyone thinks.  I admire that in him.

The moving of the couches ended up being far more complicated than I could have ever imagined.  Ted dug in and worked hard until the job was done for the paltry pay of a shared bottle of red and some Hawaiian pizza.  Thanks, Teddy.  You da bomb!

(Teddy on the deck last summer giving me his infamous model pose.)

Grrrr....

Sorry folks.

You know how on certain websites you have to type in a combination of letters and numbers in order to proceed and how they often look like arabic and you get all sorts of frustrated because that-fucking-3-looks-like-an-E-and-how-am-I-supposed-to-know-what-it-says??!!!

That process is to block spam and I've been getting all kinds of spam submitted in the form of comments on da blog.  It pisses me off.  No, I don't need to know how to make my penis larger, thank you very much.  I don't actually have a penis and if I did, I certainly wouldn't want to learn about making it bigger on here.  Sheesh.

The worst part?  I get SO excited when someone leaves a comment on a post that I've written.  I know that makes me shallow and juvenille, but I don't care.  So... when I receive the notification email telling me that someone has left a comment on a post that I've done I get all bouncy and excited only to find out that it's some asshole that is asking me if I want to learn a secret on how to please my partner in bed.  Yeah.  I don't have a current sexual partner, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

So I apologize, dear readers.  You will have to endure the arabic gauntlet to now leave me a comment.  Please don't let that deter you, because as most of you know, I'm a rather exuberant gal who enjoys getting all bouncy and excited.  I really do love your comments so please continue to leave them.  No, actually.  Leave more!!!  Your comments inspire me to be more prolific. Yeah.  That's it.  So to my Blind Bay Bitches (who complain loudly that I don't post often enough....), I'll start posting more often once y'all start leaving me comments!!!  So there. :)

Sex and the City

I love this show. I love Carrie Bradshaw. I LOVE Big. I love shoes. I have never been to New York but I love New York. I love my girlfriends. And you know what? After being a cynic for most of my adult life, I think that I'm actually starting to love the idea of love. Romantic love.

My favourite episode of SATC is when Carrie goes to Paris (I originally said 'Russia' but a kind reader corrected me to remind me that it was actually Paris... thank you, kind anonymous reader!) to be with Aleksandr Petrovsky. (*sigh* My biggest high school crush EVER was on Mikhail Barynshykov. Seriously. I digress.) I have two favourite scenes from that episode.

The first is when Carrie comes back unexpectedly from Paris and goes to the place where she has Saturday morning breakfast on a regular basis with Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda. The girls aren't expecting her and when she taps on the window to capture their attention, they go crazy when they see her. Bat-shit crazy. I have seen my girlfriends do that. It's incredible. The other scene from that episode that captures my heart is when Carrie is on the floor of the hotel hallway, heartbroken and just simply 'done'. She crying and defeated when she looks up and sees 'Big'. There is a look that she has on her face; it's a look that's reserved for him and him alone.

That melts my heart.

Ok. Now for some fun. A few great SATC quotes to make you smile!

Carrie: I am someone who is looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love.

Carrie: Maybe the past is like an anchor holding us back. Maybe, you have to let go of who you were to become who you will be.

Carrie: Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they need to run free until they find someone just as wild to run with.

Carrie: Somewhere out there is another little freak who will love us and understand us and kiss our three heads and make it all better.

Samantha: [to the girls] I think I have monogamy. I caught it from you people.
Carrie: Now it's airborne.

Miranda: [on finding out she is pregnant] WHY didn't I use a condom?
Carrie: You didn't use a condom?
Miranda: He has one ball, and I have a lazy ovary! In what twisted world does that create a baby? It's like the Special Olympics of conception!

Carrie: Man may have discovered fire, but women discovered how to play with it.

Stanford: I can only stay a few minutes. I got tickets to the Vagina Monologues.
Carrie: Why?
Stanford: Just because I don't eat at the restaurant doesn't mean I can't hear the specials.